


i'll give you the best years

by eddiesdiaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Jackson's Parents are Trash, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Parent Jackson Whittemore, but also as always, it's literally so soft you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiesdiaz/pseuds/eddiesdiaz
Summary: Stiles has only been in London for about a month when he runs into him. He walks into his favorite coffee shop not far from campus and there’s Jackson, sitting at Stiles’ usual table. He looks a little older and a little softer, but still breathtaking. Stiles would know that jawline anywhere, okay?He stares, mesmerized, as Jackson laughs and then smiles, so genuine and fond, leaning in closer to whoever’s sitting with him at the table. Stiles shifts his gaze to the side, expecting to find a date or a girlfriend, but instead, he’s met with a little girl. A beautiful little girl with Jackson’s eyes and Jackson’s nose and Jackson’s ridiculously cute freckles.For my absolute favorite, who asked me: If I give you Jackson falling for single dad Stiles, will you give me Stiles falling for single dad Jackson?
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 32
Kudos: 509
Collections: Teen Wolf





	i'll give you the best years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [florenceandthemachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/florenceandthemachine/gifts).



> Originally posted on [Tumblr](https://buckleydiazs.tumblr.com/post/614416356249600000)

Jackson never pictured himself having kids. Not after the way things went down with his own parents, who left him to his own devices as soon as they deemed him old enough to take care of himself at ten years old. Who ignored him entirely until they needed him to make them look good, to play the part of the perfect son. Who uprooted him halfway through his sophomore year of high school to move to London for his dad’s job, without so much as an apology for turning his life upside down, for taking him away from Danny and Lydia, the only real family he’s ever known. There’s no way someone like him could ever be a good dad, not with the piss poor example that had been set for him. He’d decided that early on and never wavered on it, because it’s safer that way.

He meets Thea during his first semester at Oxford. She reminds him a little of Lydia, fierce and unapologetic and always ready to call Jackson on his bullshit. They understand each other, both a little broken and wanting something real without having to give too much. Jackson’s not sure he’d call it dating, but they are sleeping together exclusively, and they more often than not spend the night together afterwards, and share breakfast in the morning before class.

It most definitely isn’t intentional, but the second Thea tells him she’s pregnant, it’s like a switch flips in Jackson. She says she doesn’t know if she can do this now, not even halfway through her first year of college, and Jackson, against all odds, finds himself practically begging her to think about it. He tells her he’ll be there every step of the way, that she won’t have to do it alone, that he’ll put his all into them and this child. Into their family.

Three months after they decide to have the baby, Jackson buys a ring. He loves Thea, he thinks, or he’s getting there at least. He wants to do right by her, wants to make sure she knows he’s here to stay. That same night, the night he’s going to propose, he comes home early and overhears Thea on the phone, telling one of her friends nonchalantly that she’s only playing house with Jackson for his money. Because she knows as long as they’re together and she’s the mother of his child, he’ll take care of her. Like he and the baby are nothing but pawns in this game she’s playing.

Jackson sees red, not even for himself, but for his kid. He’s all too familiar with being used, but he’ll be damned if he lets the same thing happen to this baby. He’s supposed to be breaking the cycle, for God’s sake, he refuses to stick this kid with a parent who doesn’t care. It’s not fucking happening.

It’s easy to win sole custody of Emily once she’s born. Because the thing is, Jackson doesn’t need to work a day in his life. Sure, he’d always planned to, because he’d have been bored out of his mind otherwise, but the fact is he has more than enough money to support both of them for the next eighteen years and then some. He tells the judge all of this, along with the fact that he’s putting school on hold indefinitely so he can focus on raising Emily, and it’s no contest who the more stable parent is. Thea puts the final nail in her own coffin when Jackson’s lawyer gets her to admit she never wanted to have the baby in the first place.

Jackson is completely head over heels in love with his daughter. There’s nothing in this world that compares to the way he feels when she looks up at him, with those big, beautiful eyes that match his own, like he’s her entire universe. As terrified as he is about fucking this up somehow, deep down he knows they’re going to be okay, because he would die before he’d let her life be anything but absolutely perfect.

Stiles graduates from UCLA at the top of his class, and after a lot of deliberating, he decides to accept Oxford’s full ride offer for graduate school. It’s far, farther than Stiles has ever dared to go, but he needs to get out of California. It’s starting to suffocate him. He feels guilty as hell about leaving his dad, but John assures him he’ll be fine, he just wants Stiles to do what’s best for himself for once without worrying about anyone else. 

One of the things that gives him the guts to take the plunge, strangely enough, is Jackson Whittemore. Last Stiles heard, he was at Oxford too, studying law, and something about that comforts him. He and Jackson had never actually been friends - Jackson was rich and gorgeous and popular, and Stiles was none of those things - but it’s reassuring all the same to know someone from Beacon Hills would be near. Even if they never crossed paths, or they did and Jackson wanted nothing to do with him, it would still bring a sense of familiarity that he’s sure would be grounding when he’s in a strange place.

Sure enough, he’s only been in London for about a month when he runs into him. He walks into his favorite coffee shop not far from campus and there’s Jackson, sitting at Stiles’ usual table. He looks a little older and a little softer, but still breathtaking. Stiles would know that jawline anywhere, okay?

He stares, mesmerized, as Jackson laughs and then smiles, so genuine and fond, leaning in closer to whoever’s sitting with him at the table. Stiles shifts his gaze to the side, expecting to find a date or a girlfriend, but instead, he’s met with a little girl. A beautiful little girl with Jackson’s eyes and Jackson’s nose and Jackson’s ridiculously cute freckles.

Stiles’ brain short circuits. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, his feet are carrying him to the table, coffee forgotten. “Jackson, hey,” he says, waving in a way he hopes is casual but feels incredibly unnatural.

“Stilinski?” Jackson asks, grinning as he gets out of his chair and pulls Stiles into a long hug. “You look good, man. What are you doing here?”

It’s a hell of a warmer welcome than Stiles was expecting, and he feels his cheeks heating up at the contact. Jackson is warm and he smells good and six years of not seeing him has clearly done nothing to calm Stiles’ crush.

“I just started grad school at Oxford,” he explains, then crouches down with a smile so he’s eye-level with the girl. “Who’s this?”

Jackson ruffles her hair, smiling down at her proudly, and Stiles’ heart melts. “This is Emily. Say hi to Stiles, Em.”

“Hi, Stiles,” she repeats easily, waving a tiny little hand at him. “I’m almost four. How old are you?”

“I’m 23, just like your dad,” Stiles says, chuckling, then leans in closer to her like he’s telling her a secret. “Did you know I went to school with him when we were young like you?”

Emily shrieks in delight at that, and demands stories, which Stiles is happy to oblige. Jackson rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. A real smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle.

After awhile, Emily tugs on Jackson’s sleeve and asks him if she can get a hot chocolate. He agrees, taking a credit card out of his wallet and handing it over to her. “Get something for Stiles too, okay? He never got a chance to order, we distracted him.”

Emily hops out of her seat and then looks at Stiles expectantly. “Do you want nasty coffee like daddy gets?” she asks, making a face, and Stiles and Jackson both snort.

“Nah, hot chocolate sounds awesome, actually,” he says, smiling at her answering grin. “Thanks, Emily.”

They both watch her as she walks up to the counter with a cheerful “Hi Erica!” to Stiles’ favorite barista, who turns out to be their favorite barista too.

“She’s amazing, Jackson,” Stiles says honestly, patting him on the shoulder. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” he says with a smile, sounding so incredibly affectionate and lovesick. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

It’s throwing Stiles off a little, how different this Jackson is compared to the one he used to know. It’s a good look on him, though, happy and stable rather than a ticking timebomb of pent-up rage that could go off at any second. 

“I don’t know how you do it, man,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “School _and_ a kid? You always were an overachiever.”

Jackson laughs and nudges Stiles with his foot under the table. “As much as I love to hear you tell me how great I am, I can’t actually take credit for that one. I deferred when Em was born and I haven’t been back since.”

“Oh, wow,” Stiles breathes. Suddenly a wave of respect and admiration washes over him that he’s never felt for Jackson before. “That’s awesome, Jackson.”

Jackson just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, her mom’s not around other than a few holidays a year, so I wanted to make sure I was always there for her.”

“That’s awesome,” Stiles repeats, because he can tell Jackson doesn’t actually realize that. “Not many people would give up everything for their kid like that. Especially people with money like you, who could easily just hire a nanny and call it a day. She’s really lucky to have you, Jackson. You’re a good dad.”

Jackson’s quiet, but he gives Stiles a grateful look that says it all. He just told Jackson something he really, really needed to hear. 

Emily comes back then, accompanied by Erica, with their hot chocolates and a blueberry muffin. She holds the muffin out to Stiles with a proud smile and says “Erica said these are your favorite, so I got you one!”

Stiles doesn’t think his fragile heart can take much more before it goes into cuteness overload and implodes. He thanks her with a grin, and then sticks a finger into his whipped cream and wipes it on her nose. Emily giggles and retaliates by smudging some of her own across Stiles’ cheek. Jackson laughs as they both try to stretch their tongues far enough to lick the whipped cream away.

Emily invites Stiles to help her with the coloring page she’s working on, and he does so gladly while also catching up with Jackson. It’s shockingly comfortable, hanging out with the former it boy of Beacon Hills and his daughter like they’re old friends. It is, though, so much so that he lets time get away from him. When he finally glances at his phone again, he jumps up in surprise, saying “Crap, I’m _so_ late for class, sorry, guys.”

Emily pouts that he’s leaving, and Stiles could almost swear Jackson kind of does, too. So he gathers up all the courage he can muster and says “I’m here all the time, but just in case you guys need me,” and he grabs one of Emily’s crayons again, scribbling his phone number onto the page they just finished.

He gives both of them big hugs before he hauls ass back to campus, and he tries not to think too hard about how much he hopes he sees them again.

They end up with a standing coffee date every Friday afternoon, because it’s Stiles’ short day and he can hang out as long as he wants without having to worry about rushing back to class. There’s always hot chocolate waiting for him when he gets there - and he’s not gonna lie, sometimes after a long night of homework, he would much rather have coffee - but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything when Emily pushes the mug towards him with that patented Whittemore smile.

Emily usually colors, or steals Jackson’s phone to play games, and Jackson helps Stiles study. (As it turns out, he’s smart as hell; Stiles figured as much considering he got into Oxford, but still, it’s not a side of himself he’d ever broadcasted back in high school.) When Stiles needs a break, he helps Emily color, and when Emily decides she’s not being given enough attention, she climbs into Jackson’s lap and gives him her best puppy dog eyes until they close the textbooks and talk to her.

He and Jackson definitely flirt a little bit sometimes. It’s not much, obviously, considering the third party that’s always sitting right next to them, but there are fleeting touches and pointed compliments that leave Stiles with butterflies every time. He’s especially obsessed with the way Jackson blushes when Stiles is talking to Emily and refers to Jackson as “daddy.”

It’s nice to have something in his routine that isn’t purely school, to have people that actually like being around him enough to make a regular thing out of it. Other than his dad, he’s only ever had that with Scott, and it’s been years since they’ve had time to stick to it.

Stiles knows he’s getting attached to them. Both of them. He’s not entirely sure it’s wise, but he’d like to see anyone _try_ not to fall for Jackson and Emily Whittemore. It’s impossible, he’s fairly certain, not to completely melt when the two cutest people he’s ever known smile at him.

Stiles is fucked. He realizes this when he finds himself admiring their little family and imagining himself fitting into it somehow. But Jackson likes him, and more importantly, trusts him - he knows he does, because he wouldn’t let him spend so much time with his daughter if he didn’t. So he takes comfort in the fact that they don’t appear to be going anywhere any time soon, because as long as he has them in his life, he’ll be fine.

One Friday morning, several weeks into their coffee dates, he gets a text from Jackson saying they’re not gonna be able to make it today. Stiles pouts for all of half a second before another text comes through that reads _I know it’s super late notice, but is there any way you can babysit for me tonight?_

They live in the cutest little house Stiles has ever seen, because of course they do. It’s cozy and colorful and absolutely full of Emily in every corner. Her toys, her artwork, and so many pictures of her and Jackson. The first picture he’d ever helped Emily color, the one with his phone number on it, is hanging in a place of honor on their fridge, and Stiles tries not to read too much into that.

“Thanks so much for this, sorry again for springing it on you,” Jackson says, pacing around the living room. He’s a little frantic - more like the Jackson he used to know, like he’s desperately trying to hold himself together. 

“It’s no problem, dude, seriously, I’m always happy to hang out with Emmy,” Stiles assures him. He stops Jackson with a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey. You okay?”

Jackson blinks a few times like he’s trying to snap himself out of it, and then nods. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just…my parents are back in town, and they want to have dinner, and they, uh. They don’t actually know about Em, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Stiles doesn’t know much about Jackson’s parents other than rumors of him being adopted that floated around back in high school. Jackson doesn’t really talk about them; in fact, this may very well be the first time he’s ever brought them up. 

Jackson’s breaths are coming quick and shallow, and he looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. Stiles is all too familiar with the signs of an oncoming panic attack, so he jumps in and tries to shut it down before it starts.

“It’s okay, Jackson,” he says softly, cupping Jackson’s face with his hands and looking him in the eyes. “Breathe for me, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. Your parents don’t control you anymore. You have your own life now, and you don’t owe them anything.”

He hopes to god he’s saying the right thing, but it’s hard to be sure when he doesn’t know the full story, so he stops talking and just breathes. The way the tension falls from Jackson’s shoulders and his breaths fall in time with Stiles’ own tells him he did okay, though. 

“Thanks,” Jackson murmurs, so quietly, and they just stare at each other for a long moment. He’s close enough to count the freckles on Jackson’s nose, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Jackson’s gaze darts down to Stiles’ lips. They slowly gravitate another inch closer, noses brushing. 

And Emily chooses that moment to run into the room and launch herself into Stiles’ arms.

“Hey, cutie pie,” Stiles greets her, trying to will his heartbeat to slow back to normal after what almost just happened. He situates her on his hip and then looks back at Jackson with a smile. “We’re good here, okay? Promise. Go do what you need to do and we’ll be right here when you get back.”

Jackson smiles back. It’s a nervous smile, but Stiles will take it. He gives Emily a kiss on the forehead and tells her he loves her about five times before he finally goes. 

His night with Emily is easy enough. She sits on the kitchen counter next to Stiles while he makes them mac and cheese for dinner, and they sing along to the radio together. They play superheroes, and color some pictures, as always, and Stiles introduces her to Kim Possible, because the kid needs to know the classics. 

While he’s getting her ready for bed, Emily lets out a long, dramatic sigh and says “I miss daddy.” Stiles chuckles fondly at her and resists the urge to say “me too.” She convinces him to let her stay downstairs with him, and to read her three different bedtime stories, because she is her father’s daughter and she can talk anyone into anything. 

She’s been asleep for maybe half an hour and Stiles is watching How I Met Your Mother reruns on TV when Jackson comes back through the door with a visible sigh of relief. 

“Hey, sorry,” Stiles whispers, gesturing vaguely down at the sleeping Emily with her head in his lap. “I told her she could sleep down here until you got back to tuck her in.”

“That’s okay,” Jackson says, smiling as he sits at the other end of the couch. “She didn’t give you any trouble, did she?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope, she was perfect as per usual. So how’d it go?”

“The same way it always goes with them, I guess,” he says with a deep sigh, reaching out to rub Emily’s back gently as she sleeps. He tells Stiles a little about them, about how they essentially neglected him for half his life (Stiles is paraphrasing, Jackson didn’t put it that bluntly) and Stiles is suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to find them and strangle them for hurting Jackson.

“I just hate hiding her. It feels wrong,” Jackson finally says, and Stiles’ heart breaks.

“I know, but you’re doing what’s best for her.”

“Am I, though? Or am I just being selfish?” Jackson asks, finally meeting Stiles’ eyes and looking so unbelievably lost and vulnerable. “I mean, they’re the reason I can afford to stay home with her and not have to worry about working.”

“What’s best for you _is_ what’s best for her, Jacks. She cares about you more than anything else in the world. And for the record, throwing money at someone does not equate to taking care of them. They treated you like shit, and if you don’t want them to know your daughter because of that, that’s totally okay,” Stiles tells him, with every bit of sincerity he has in his heart. “Whenever she’s old enough for you to explain it to her, she’ll understand.”

Jackson lets out a breath Stiles is pretty sure he didn’t realize he’d been holding, smiling at him gratefully. “You always know exactly what to say, you know that?”

“I’m wise beyond my years,” Stiles jokes, laughing as he carefully wriggles his way out from under Emily. Once he’s successfully extricated himself, he leans down to kiss her head. “Anyways, I’m gonna get out of your way and let you get this one to bed.”

Jackson’s quick to follow, taking Stiles’ hand and walking him the few feet to the front door. Stiles’ fingers tingle where they’re laced through his. “Hey, thanks for listening, and for looking after Em.”

“Always,” Stiles answers easily, probably a little too honest. Before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in to press a soft kiss to Jackson’s cheek on his way out.

They still have coffee on Fridays, but more often than not, Stiles ends up at their house afterwards. He brings his schoolwork, but he prefers to help Jackson around the house when he can, because he’s sure it must get old having to do everything by yourself all the time. He does a couple loads of laundry or washes the dishes while he listens to Jackson and Emily play together, and then he makes them dinner (even though Jackson’s a way better cook than him, but they don’t seem to mind). When it’s Emily’s bedtime, she insists on both of them tucking her in together, and Stiles’ heart feels warm at the domesticity of it all.

Stiles never stays the night, obviously, but he does typically come back on Saturday, and again on Sunday. He knows it’s a little excessive, but honestly, there’s no other way he’d rather spend his weekends. He does worry a little that he’s in too deep, but then one night while he’s back at his dorm, Jackson calls and says “Hey, sorry, Em’s having a meltdown because she misses you and she refuses to go to bed until you tell her goodnight,” and he realizes they’re in just as deep as he is.

Emily decides she wants to be Kim Possible for Halloween, and Jackson makes sure she has a badass costume, and Stiles goes trick-or-treating with them. She’s the cutest kid in the neighborhood, hands down, and Jackson’s adorable when he gets all proud dad.

They’re all back at home (and yes, Stiles has a little bit of a freak-out when he realizes he thinks of it as home) on the couch together, and Emily is passed out between the two of them, sleeping off a massive sugar rush while they watch some Disney Halloween movie she insisted she’d stay awake for.

Emily’s curled up against Jackson’s side, but she’d pulled Stiles closer to them so she could hold his hand and she still hasn’t let go, even in her sleep. At some point Jackson started running a hand through Stiles’ hair lazily, and Stiles could honestly lay here with them forever.

“Hey,” Jackson says suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Stiles just hums, signaling for him to continue. “I’m sorry we only ever hang out with a four-year-old following us around.”

That gets Stiles’ attention, because why would he apologize for that? He considers trying to sneak into the kitchen with Jackson so they can talk, but they’ve had some of their most important conversations with Emily sleeping between them, so he just turns his head to face Jackson instead.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, we’ve been doing this for months and we’ve never even kissed, you know?” Jackson says with a frustrated sigh. “I just…I like you a lot, but I haven’t been with anyone since Em’s mom, and I don’t really know how to do it now that I have her.”

Stiles rests a hand on Jackson’s knee, squeezing gently. “Jackson, I don’t have any issue with the way things are going. I love hanging out with you guys, okay? It’s my favorite thing to do, in fact. I don’t just tolerate Emmy so I can get to you; I love this girl with everything I have.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jackson says, smiling. “I love that about you.”

“Okay, so then trust me when I say that I know she comes first. We can take it as slow as we need to, I don’t care, because I’m not going anywhere. Although, for the record, I wouldn’t be opposed to a kiss real quick while she’s not looking,” Stiles murmurs, raising a challenging brow at Jackson.

Jackson laughs fondly at him, shaking his head, but he takes the hint and leans in to kiss Stiles over Emily’s head. And then he does it again, and again. They’re just slow, sweet presses of the lips, but Stiles can still feel the last piece of the puzzle slide into place, because this is it, now everything’s perfect.

As far as Stiles is concerned, Jackson is fucking Super Dad. He takes tantrums in stride, he has answers to questions Stiles wouldn’t even know where to begin with, and his patience is honestly that of a saint. He always knows exactly what to do and what to say for every situation, every scenario.

Which is why Stiles is so taken aback when, after Emily has one of her rare-but-deadly meltdowns and screams “I hate you” before stomping off to her bedroom, Jackson completely freezes.

Because to Stiles, it’s almost funny, in the sense that it’s just so indisputably untrue it’s actually laughable. But Jackson’s standing there looking like he’s been betrayed, like he genuinely might cry, and that springs Stiles to action.

He wraps his arms around Jackson and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Come on, Jackson, that little girl loves you more than anything. She didn’t mean that, you know she’s full of shit,” he jokes, trying to coax a laugh out of Jackson.

He does get one, albeit a little shaky, as Jackson leans into his touch. “I do. I know. It’s just…god, I used to say it all the time, Stiles, and I meant it.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, because if he starts thinking about how much he hates Jackson’s parents for fucking with his head, he’ll just get angry, and that’s not going to help right now.

“You’re an outlier, babe,” he says, pressing their foreheads together. “99% of kids don’t mean it, okay? Take it from me. I said it more than a few times, and it was never true.”

Jackson nods, and then tilts his head up for a kiss. Stiles licks into his mouth, sweet and unhurried, swallowing Jackson’s satisfied sigh. He kisses him until the tension dissipates and Jackson’s relaxed again, and when he pulls away, he gives him one last peck on the lips.

“Go talk to her,” Stiles encourages with a smile. “If I know Emmy, and I do, she feels just as bad as you do.”

“Will you come with me?”

Stiles is speechless for a second. Because again, this is Jackson Whittemore, superstar single dad who’s raised this amazing kid all on his own, with no help from anyone, asking Stiles to do something seriously resembling coparenting. He’s humbled and so unbelievably honored that Jackson trusts him that much.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, voice breaking a little as he nods. He hugs Jackson tight to ground them both before he follows him up the stairs.

Stiles is right; Emily’s more upset about fighting with Jackson than she is about whatever she’d thrown a tantrum about, and she apologizes as soon as they walk into the room. Jackson explains as best as he can that it’s okay for them to get angry with each other, but he’d really like it if they didn’t use those words because they’re really hurtful, especially to him. He does great, but when he gets emotional and loses his words, Stiles is there to fill in the gaps, and he doesn’t let go of his hand the entire time.

Around Thanksgiving, Stiles gets a little bummed because he misses his dad and Scott, so Jackson flies them both out to visit to surprise him. Stiles thanks him by pushing him up against the fridge to make out while Emily’s distracted watching Kim Possible in the living room.

The three of them are out at dinner that night when he pulls his phone out of his pocket and says “Sorry guys, one sec, I just have to tell Emily goodnight.”

He keeps the conversation shorter than he normally would, for courtesy’s sake, but when he’s saying his goodbyes and he tells her “Yeah, I miss you guys. Love you too, Emmy, sweet dreams,” Scott and his dad are both grinning at him.

“Well that was the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard,” Scott says as soon as he hangs up, and Stiles blushes bright red.

He’s told both of them about Jackson and Emily, obviously, but it’s different somehow when they’re here and they can see how unbelievably fucking smitten he is firsthand.

“So things are good with Jackson, then?” his dad asks, and Stiles nods.

“They’re really good,” he says, his smile growing impossibly wider like it always does when he thinks about Jackson. “Very PG, and Emmy doesn’t know yet, but it’s…yeah, it’s amazing.”

Scott coos and leans over to pat Stiles on the shoulder. “I can’t believe Jackson Whittemore has a kid and you’re in love with them both.”

Stiles doesn’t deny it. He can’t, because Scott is absolutely 100% correct.

“I’m really happy for you, son,” his dad says, smiling. “Do we get to see them while we’re here?”

“I’ll double check with Jackson, but yeah, I’d like that.”

The next day, they all get together for dinner at the house. Everyone gets along like they’ve known each other forever, and Jackson holds his hand under the table while they eat. Stiles helps with the dishes, and tucks Emily in for bed, and gives Jackson a quick kiss while they’re on the way out the door.

Once they’re in the car and on the road, Scott tells him he’s never seen Stiles happier.

On Christmas Eve, after they’ve spent hours baking and decorating homemade cookies for Santa and Emily’s in bed early to make sure he has enough time to get here, Jackson pulls him in for a heated kiss.

When they have to pull away for air, he ducks his head to kiss his way down Stiles’ neck. “Stay,” he murmurs.

“Fuck,” Stiles sighs, fingers sliding into Jackson’s hair as he starts sucking what will probably be a pretty impressive hickey. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” Jackson hums. It vibrates against his skin and leaves Stiles’ entire body tingling. “I told Em we were having a Christmas sleepover.”

He grabs a fistful of Stiles’ shirt and pulls him into his bedroom. It’s the only room Stiles has never been in before, and it’s a heady feeling as he pushes Jackson down onto the bed.

He takes his sweet time undressing Jackson and then sucking him off, swallowing every last drop when he comes with Stiles’ name on his lips. Jackson is quick to return the favor, and even though it’s over way too fast, it’s the best orgasm Stiles has ever had.

They take a quick shower together afterwards, sharing lazy kisses, and Stiles steals a pair of sweats and a soft T-shirt from Jackson’s dresser that he definitely won’t be returning.

They have to set an alarm for early as hell to make sure they wake up before Emily and she doesn’t catch them in bed together, but it’s so worth it to be able to wake up next to Jackson.

He meets Thea in the morning, very briefly, when she stops by to give Emily a couple presents. Jackson’s visibly grumpier after she leaves, so Stiles pulls him into the hallway, just out of Emily’s view, to soothe him with kisses.

For one horrible, awful moment, he worries that maybe Jackson misses her, and he’s a step away from spiraling when Jackson sighs and says “I just don’t understand how she can look at Em and not love the hell out of her.”

Stiles instantly softens at that, wrapping his arms around Jackson and holding him close. “I don’t get it either, for what it’s worth,” he says.

Jackson finally tells him the full story of how things ended between them that day. It makes Stiles furious, because he’s had enough of all these pieces of shit hurting Jackson, but it also makes him that much more grateful that Jackson still opened up and let him in despite being burned so many times before.

And he can’t hate Thea completely, he realizes, as he curls up on the couch with Jackson and Emily to drink hot chocolate and watch Christmas movies. Because without her, he wouldn’t have any of this.

A few months later, they’re at the grocery store, and Stiles strays from the cart for a minute to grab something. Emily’s sitting in the cart, giggling happily as Jackson tickles her, and a sweet older woman walks by with a smile and tells Stiles “You have a beautiful family.”

Stiles splutters at first, caught off guard, but then he looks over at them fondly and all he can do is agree.

“Thanks, I think so too,” he says, not bothering to fight his dorky grin.

Of course, he isn’t actually that far away, so Jackson and Emily hear the whole thing.

“Daddy, don’t families live together?” Emily asks, looking up at Jackson, and Stiles forgets how to breathe.

Jackson’s quiet for a beat, but then he nods and reaches for Stiles’ hand. “Yeah, Em, they do. What do you say, Stiles?”

They both look to Stiles, with their gorgeous, identical eyes that make him weak, and he almost cries right there in the middle of the cereal aisle when he says “I say absolutely,” and Jackson kisses him in front of Emily for the first time.


End file.
